Short Stories Of SG1
by Moon Fox
Summary: DISCONTINUED
1. Table Of Contents

Short Stories of SG-1 

By Moon Fox

Ratings: The stories here will be PG or lower

Disclaimer: Only the creative plots, original characters, and other stuff that makes absolutely no sense are mine.

I'm too poor to own anything else, go ahead look at my check book! 

Don't forget to sign up for updates and possible sneak peaks at www.groups.yahoo.com/groups/MM_FF

Some of the stories will be crossovers, you will be warned on this intro page if that is so.

Table Of Contents 

Title: What Are The Chances

Summery: AU The CMC gets a new shrink

Where: Chapter Two

Title: The Needles Point

Summery: Some time with out thought while climbing

(unedited)

Where: Chapter Three

Title: One-Eyed Jacks

Summery: X-over with Farscape. Two friends out fishing.

Got sick of waiting for my editor, so here it is mistakes and all.

Update: A day after I posted this my editor saw it *Hehehe* and Abigor apologized, profusely. 

Where: Chapter Four

Title: My World

Summery: Sequel to One-Eyed Jacks.  Little John comes home.

!!!!!Spoilers:  Kansas and Terra Firma!!!!!

(unbeta'ed)

Where: Chapter 5

Title: (Sequel to 'My World' planned)

Title: (Sequel to What Are the Chances planned)


	2. WATC again

Alrighty then, lets see if I can get this reformatted correctly this time.  Thanks to those who informed me of the problem!   Also I'd like to thank my beta'er Abigor, whom without I would have royally screwed up a lot of punctuation and spelling!

Title: What are the chances

Author: Kay

Rating: PG (for some mild language)

Summery: AU CMC gets a new shrink.

The parking lot was nearly filled to the brim.  Vehicles of nearly every type from a run down old gremlin that most likely belonged to some new airman recruit, to a Mercedes SUV probably belonged to one of the really high ups along the chain of command.  With her AC up to max, she cruised the asphalt in the hot Colorado sun, looking for a prime spot to leave her car.  With over 100 degrees Fahrenheit air temperature outside, the thought of leaving her precious coolness did not appeal to her. 

Being from the Great Lakes area she was used to all sorts of weather, even heat, but near the lakes, there was at least humidity.  A breeze would meander its way over the lake bringing a bit off cool relief.  Here though, was nearly a desert. 'Yep, a dry, God forsaken desert. Running all the way up to the oh-so-beautiful but even dryer mountains.  Big blazing fires just over those hills.' She thought to herself.  As if to reinforce her sentiments of camping out in her car the radio blared out the brutal truth.

"Looks like it's gonna be another hot day in the Springs, and the rest of the front range up the Valley Highway. The fires are still raging in the high country, we just had a report of the ground temperature up on Crystal Peak just north of Florissant, are a cool 213 degrees!  Tomorrow appears to be looking the same"

The announcer carried on talking about the fires and the people fighting them.  She wondered aloud, "Why the hell did I even agree to this interview? AH HA!" She exclaimed finding a parking spot that wasn't marked with "Reserved For" some military rank or another, and was not too far from the shuttle.  

Once, years ago, she parked in one of the 'Oh so sacred' spaces. Newly married to an Air Force Officer, away to another country, how was she to know that the letters CG on a small white sign meant 'Reserved for Commanding General', and base security constantly monitored the place for parking violations.  When she walked out with her arms full of groceries her car was gone, towed, impounded.  She never saw it again.  Using the small bit of savings she and her now ex-husband accumulated, she didn't bother to go and get the old junker out of the impound yard, instead she just replaced it.

Too many years ago she mused, shutting off the engine, grabbing her briefcase and heading off to the waiting bus.

________________________________________________________

Once inside the mountain, she felt the relieving 65 degrees and suffered a slight chill from the contrast.  She sighed as she signed in at yet another guard station, then waited patiently for an escort.  It didn't take long before a young lieutenant introduced himself.

"Hello, ma'am, I'm Lieutenant Brown.  If you will follow me, I'll take you to the man in charge." As he began to walk toward a guarded elevator, all she could do was tag along.   Once in the lift, the young officer couldn't resist asking a question. "So are you going to be replacing our current shrink?" the eagerness in his voice barely contained.

She stifled a chuckle and cleared her throat, "I'm interviewing, I don't know if I'm replacing."  She smiled, shaking her head. "I'm guessing you have some issues with the current staff?"

"I wouldn't call it 'issues', exactly, ma'am, more a strong logical and emotional need to see him permanently removed from duty. It would be a totally self-less act for the well being of all the personnel stationed here, ma'am."  

Her mouth dropped open with a gasp, listening to him speak this straight faced.  Re-gaining her composure she laughed at the statement, "Well, Lieutenant, I'll give the best interview of my life, and attempt to save you from this predicament."

"Thank you, ma'am, you seem like a nice, strong lady, I hope you're able to save us all."  The elevator finally came to a halt, the doors sliding open with a hiss.  She once again followed the officer to a meeting room.  He left her there saying that he would be just outside the door if she needed anything, and that the General would be with her promptly.

She sat down in a chair and placed her briefcase on the table in front of her.  While organizing her papers, she took the chance to glance around the room.  One of the walls was covered in a brown post-it board substance, another gray concrete holding a small window and door.  The next was similar to the second and was where she entered, the fourth was an oddity. Windows. A large slab of metal on the opposite side prevented her from seeing out through them, but this room appeared to be for observation of whatever could be on the other side.

Understanding how the military worked gave her an advantage, even though her curiosity was definitely in high gear, she stayed sitting in the chair, knowing that unless she got this job, she would never find out what was on the other side.   She didn't need to wait long for the General to appear through the door.  She stood to greet him, taking notice of his two stars. "General?"

"Hammond." The pleasant older gentleman finished for her.  "You must be Dr. Sarah Michaels.  I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, please take a seat."

________________________________________________________

The interview was going smoothly, General Hammond already having decided to his self, that she would be the bases new civilian psychologist, although he still needed to finish with the formalities, when there was a knock on one of the doors.  "Excuse me," he asked politely and looked up.  He motioned through the window and a younger man in civvies entered.  "Ah, Dr. Jackson, I would like you to meet Dr. Michaels."

Dr. Jackson stopped in his tracks and proffered his hand.  "Ah, hi, um, have we met before?" he asked looking bewildered.

"Not to my knowledge." She stated with a pleasant smile.  

"We were just about to finish this interview." The General told Dr. Jackson then turned back to Dr. Michaels. "Well, I see no reason why I should keep you in suspense any longer, Doctor.  All your paperwork and security clearances are in perfect order, I think this base will benefit from your experience.  You've got the job." He reached to shake her hand, noticing as one of his top officers came through the door and stopped a few feet behind Dr. Michaels. 

Daniel snapped his fingers and a grin lit up his features. "That's where I think I know you from, " He looked to the person standing behind her.  "Jack, she looks just like the picture of your ex-wife, Sarah!"

{{Note: The fire I am referring to is one of the big ones in Colorado this last summer.  I don't know if this was actually broad cast on the radio, but my mother has property up there, and the ground temp was measured on a neighbors property. the 213 degrees F was about 7 miles away from the fire, so you can guess what it must have been like for the firemen and women at the front line.  The Front Range is an area that runs east of the foothills from Colorado Springs north to the Wyoming border.  Interstate 25 is commonly referred to as the Valley highway, since in Colorado most of it runs through various valleys }}

{Note: This AU holds to theory that the ep 'Cold Lazarus' doesn't exist. I finally saw the ep when Sci-Fi started re-airing the series from the beginning.  I can't say that it was any where near my favorite episode.  For one thing, that's when the whole Charlie thing started.  In the movie O'Neal's (yes in the movie its spelled like that) son was named Tyler.}

{Notes for my stories: Jack and Sarah have never spoken since the divorce.  Also, I usually don't look too far into the years and bios of the characters since they are fictional characters, instead I make my own. So my time line for Jack O'Neill is thus: Born 1949,  started college 1968, received his draft notice in 1969, didn't want to become army, so he went to a recruiter and joined the Air Force OTC.  Finally finished college 1977 met Sarah in college(she graduated with a degree in psychology and practiced until Charlie was born), married shortly after, Recruited Black Ops 1980, Charlie born 1983, Desert Storm liberated POW 1990 the rest as they say is history.  OH and one more thing, I always pictured Bonnie Hart playing Sarah, just so you have a visual reference of what I see.}  


	3. Needles Point

Disclaimer: I'm broke, and was moved from Colorado to Alaska, so writing about it is one of the few ways I can keep in touch with reality.  Owning Stargate would be too much of a hassle.

The Needles Point

The stillness of it all, that's what he loved most about it. The stillness – and the silence.  Nothing but him and the rocks.  It was almost like fishing.  Although casting out a line and sitting was a way to think and relax, this was different in that there was no time to think, just pure action, no inhibition.  A few struggling grasses and evergreens greeted him from various heights as they attempted to gain a foothold along the vertical stone face.  The golden leafed aspens below chattered in the fall breeze, telling him of their soft and supple beings, they would catch him if needed.  Above was a sky so blue that touching it seemed an unreachable reality.  

He stretched his fingers, white with chalk, to their limit.  The tips grasping firmly to the small purchase of a crack in the wall.  There were no overhanging shelves to worry about on Crestone Needle, just the high ridge that loomed out of site.  Three points.  It was so ingrained in his mind…Always have at least three points touching the rock.  The crispness of the air seared his lungs as they attempted to fill themselves with the thin air.  By now he was well over the 14,000 foot mark.  Another couple hundred and he would be sitting on the top of the world, or close to it at least.  Closer would have meant climbing Mt. Elbert, which was a major tourist trap.  Only the locals knew of the few 4x4 trails that went so far back into the high country.  A five plus mile hike in, and then you were at the base ready to begin ascending – the next morning.

The clattering of rocks caught his attention first.  His left foot slipping a hair was next.  The calluses on his finger tips grew more as they dug in deeper to the chipped rock.  Once he obtained the balance he was looking for, his left foot moved quickly and close to one of his hands.  Catching himself from looking down, he took a moment for some steady breathing; in through the nose, out through the mouth.  He opened his eyes and looked up, finding the next eye hook above him.  Nimbly he clipped onto it, when he was assured of his safety, he continued on.  

His arms were crossed over his knees, his head hanging in the circle they formed with his body.  Deep inhalations calmed his nerves after the treacherous climb.  Below, and to the south he looked out over the sand dunes.  It still unnerved him to see the sand that had blown from an ocean thousands of years before to end up among the Colorado sage brush.  Not a drop of salt-water for a few hundred miles.  It reminded him of his own life at times. Steadily moving onward, mountains and canyons in its path, it all stayed together, loosing bit here and there, but gaining more back as it swept across the land.  

From the 14er he saw all the way to New Mexico, Kansas, and even a bit of Oklahoma.  Though there were no clearly marked borders like on maps, he still new the areas where one state ended and another began.  Kind of like his life once more.  From the peak he could see each place in his years where turning points, borders if you will, were reached.  He loosened the strap that held his safety helmet in place, took it off and laid it on the small pack he used for his emergency supplies.  He planned on being back down before night fall, but at this high altitude – in Colorado – the weather could change quicker than a woman's mind.

The wind started to pick up as he sat there, taking the temperature from 90 to around 70. He felt the chill as his body also cooled from the exertion.  As quickly as the wind gust came it tapered back off to the slight chinook it had been all day.   He looked up to the sky, not even a jet trail marred to pristine azure of the heavens.  

Like the breeze, his thoughts began to filter back into his mind and his body started to feel the all-to-familiar aching of age.  It had begun to become a constant companion these days.   He pushed the pain to the back and let other thoughts surface.  The evil and pain he caused others in his life, most he could barely think about now.  The faces of children he'd killed. Sure, those kids were pointing guns at him, all they understood was that their fathers said God and government told them to do it. Just as those two seemed to dictate his own life.  Most of that time would stay within him, the only ones who knew were dead or didn't give a damn, save for the fact it was 'Classified'. 

She didn't even know, and she couldn't deal with it…among other things.  His family was all but gone from him.  All that was left was his work.  The prospect of beginning anew terrorized him.  Although the new she didn't, well, not too much.  It was his whole life that scared him, and scarred him against looking too deeply into his own soul.  All in the name of the higher powers that controlled his life.  He sold his body to the whim of politics, and his soul to the highest bidder on e-bay.  Yeah, he knew e-bay wasn't around back then, but the analogy worked for him. All that was left was his heart, a few higher brain functions, and his rank.  Check that, he thought, only the latter two.  The other I lost a while back somewhere too.  Back when I fucked up.

At least that's how it appeared, until recently, when a damn scientist entered the picture.  She couldn't know about him, about who he really felt like he was.  He couldn't let her become involved in the gambit he constantly played with fate. Hell, she didn't even know what his real MOS was.  Perhaps two of those he worked with knew… the rest didn't need to know that he could build a nuclear bomb from virtually scratch, and take it apart just as easy.  He was a weapons specialist.  His current duty didn't require it, at least not in any active roll.  He didn't mind, it helped too keep him mind from wondering just how many lives he destroyed with his knowledge.

Another blast of air caught him from the back, for a moment he thought he might loose his precarious balance atop the high ridge.  The wind tried to swirl his hair, only to realize that it was too short, and it calmed again.  Maybe one of these days he'd ask if anyone he knew cared to join him and scale cliffs in the high country.  Years ago, back in his academy days, the drive wasn't as long to reach good technical climbing, now so many tourists filtered through the Garden of the Gods everyday, that he'd be made a spectacle.  Who knew, it might even be illegal to climb by ropes and hooks and claws to the top of the Camel's Eye.  

He could spend two more days climbing the various peaks in the area.  Or he could spend the night up high, feeling like he was almost a god, counted among the heavens.  Nowadays, the word 'god' took on a whole new meaning, usually accompanied by the word 'false'.  He sat contemplating this for a while, finally giving in to the rational, that it just didn't make rational sense, so why worry about.  Yep, that was definitely the lucid thing to do.  The clarity in his mind began to mimic that of the undisturbed sky.  He found that the bombardment of thoughts assaulting his mind, were running out of ammo.  Yet, he knew from experience there was still plenty more left.  

The curse came next, the Colorado curse, more urban legend than anything it always seemed to effect people deny it as they may.  The story told of an Indian Chief Niwot, or Nitwit as some of the Front Range locals called the small town named after the old Indian. When the white man came to this land and became captivated by the beauty usurping the natives, he laid the curse 'all who came to this place and left, would always come back.  Nearly the whole state was above 5,000 feet, the John Denver song 'Rocky Mountain High' held true.  It was a rush living in a place where there was no moisture to clog the air with its humidity, the only liquid that formed on your body was from sweat, or a dip in one of the high lakes or rivers.  Sure there was some rain, in late August the sky could split open without a thought, bringing hail, and drops of water so thick, that they stung the skin and sometimes left bruises, and the rain was always cold.  

In the winter piles of snow could melt away in less than a day.  And ninety-degrees, could turn to thirties in the space of an hour.  The unpredictability accompanied by the lack of oxygen gave you a rush unlike anything else.  Perhaps it was that, or just plain coincidence that brought him back here time and again.  First on a family vacation when he was twelve, then when he was eighteen and joined the Air Force.  Twice he was stationed at one base or another here.  After retiring, he, his ex-wife, and son moved into the outskirts of Denver.  Not too long after, was where the last remnants of his heart disappeared.

They were thinking about moving, the house was already on the market when two men showed up at his door.  Recalling him.  Somewhere in his mind, at that point, he wished to be rid of Colorado once and for all.  And he was, well sort of, via the Springs, he went off to another world.  Now almost eight years later, he was still here.  The curse worked, he was probably going to retire here again, and live out the rest of  his life scaling the peaks, or driving east to fish, and then coming home.

He stood up, feeling as the wind battered his back again.   It was interesting feeling he got standing up with the wind, like it was whispering to him that it could make him fly, the breeze would carry him.  Something always held his firmly in place, the earth, like it gently took hold of his feet, reminding him that he was meant to be on land.  The gentle reprimand of a mother.  He pondered the idea of repelling down to steep side, then climbing back up tomorrow to gather his rope and hooks.  He shook his head at himself, and began a slow descent to his camp, un-attaching his gear from the face as he went.

It was slow and tedious going, and the bright pinks, purples, reds, and golds of the desert mountain sunset were beginning to fade when he reached his camp.  One night here, and he would head back to his truck in the morning, or climb again.  He'd decide that tomorrow, for now his exhaustion kicked in, and after a small meal, he sank into his sleeping bag, and slept.

A/N: This might be a two-part story.  I'm still deciding that.

I have never done any technical climbing, just acted like a mountain goat at times, so if I screwed up in any of my descriptions of the actual climbing please let me know so I can fix it.

(terminology):  '14er': Yes this is an actual Coloradoan word (and this is the correct spelling) referring to the mountain peaks rising over 14,000 feet sea level.  From www.14ers.com : *** Note: ****To be ranked, a peak must rise at least 300 feet above the saddle that connects it to the nearest 14er peak (if another exists nearby). This guideline has been in use in Colorado for some time. **Crestone Needle (14,197) fits this rule since it is linked to Crestone Peak (14, 294), Challenger Point (14,081), and Kit Carson Peak (14,165).  The web site has some beautiful pics of the area. This area is about a three-four hour drive from Colorado Springs.

Chinook: in CO this is a warm southern breeze coming up from the Gulf of Mexico, not to be confused with a fish of the same name. 

MOS is Mission Operative Statement er something like it meaning the specialized training Armed Service men and women choose… the exact anagram is different for each service.  Lemme know if I need to change it for this story.

I would really enjoy it if you would review this story. Thanks.


	4. OneEyed Jacks

Title: One-eyed Jacks

Author: Kay aka Moon Fox

Rating: G

Summery: SG-1/ Farscape crossover.  Two old friends sit, drink, and fish while mourning their sons.

Disclaimer: Yep disclaimers… read other stories and you'll know them. I own nothing but the plot.

The small red and white bobber danced on the waves. The filament swaying below in the water, attached to a metal hook with a rubber worm tempting the fish around it.  Though many of the aquatic marine life swam by, none were attracted to the false lure.  This didn't matter to the man sitting on the wharf drinking a beer quietly and lounging in a deck chair.  A friend sat to his right nearly mimicking the movements of sipping the beer, checking the fishing rods and lines, just relaxing in each others companionship.  "I miss him, Jack.  I miss him like you wouldn't believe."  The second man said breaking what was a comfortable silence.

"Yeah, I know what your talking about, Jack.  I miss my son too." Jack stated as he stood up and went to check on the bratwursts that cooked slowly over the warm grill.  The two men shared so much in life that they thought of each other as long lost twin brothers, fraternal twins of course since they bore no physical resemblance.  Even when they both met in the Air Force Academy and were stationed in the same company, they had immediately hit it off, from that day not even distance, nor marriage could come between their camaraderie.  The only things distinguishable between the two men years ago were their looks and their names.  However by a prank the two pulled off in their barracks so long ago, the name part was soon remedied.

~o0O0o~

Two young airmen quietly made their way through the darkened hallway of the Academy.  They were on a mission, to prove which company was truly the best.  The Victory Vultures, it seemed, had gained quite a  bit in the last month for the unofficial 'Senior pranks' competition. The conflict in North Vietnam was pushed into full throttle, the majority of those in the graduating class would be sent there soon, and most of them would die.  It was a known fact, yet know one dwelled on the idea long.  The instructors and officers granted unspoken leeway to the mischievous soon to be officers, this newest shenanigan would be pressing the freedom to the limit. 

The Yankee Yaks squad leaders, more commonly referred to as the Yankee Yahoos, decided at the beginning of the year that the typical senior escapades should be kept to a minimum, or at the very least just ahead of the other four companies in the class.  This was to go on until near the end of the year when they would sit down and discuss the appropriate action.  With only a week left until graduation, nothing had been decided, so two of the four squad leader put their own plan into motion.  The vultures were up by two in the numbers.  That wouldn't matter, by morning the creativity of the yahoos would put them so far ahead, nothing short of a retaliation in which a few vultures got expelled, would top the devious scheme put in motion tonight.

They halted before a dimly lit hallway, looking over their equipment before beginning the final assault.  A few hours later and all was ready.  Killing two birds with one stone, the two added in a piece of something the Vultures did to them, only a month into the year.  The entire company was punished when playing cards…ten decks of playing cards were found in the barracks rooms. 

Then to top it off, after the pranks the four squad leaders received a jack on each pillow, on each of them was written the word 'ass'.   Judgment day had come for the Vultures, now all that was left would be to get a precious hour of sleep, then wait until their masterpiece was discovered.   

Revile sounded a blaring and high pitched noise.  Men and women began waking up through out the entire base.  The line of cars outside the entrance gates stretched out at least a mile, as it always did in the mornings.  The stomping and pounding of feet running, jogging, walking and marching, sounding off cadence as they went was enough to bring even the weariest of dead out of the grave. Before even the first light of dawn shone its rays over the arid eastern prairie, the senior class of the Air Force Academy was gathered outside in formation, awaiting the orders of the day.  O'Neill and Crichton kept their faces straight and their eyes straight ahead as a few previously missing Vultures filed into assigned places.  Still at least three others of the opposing company were missing.

The trick for the Yahoo's plan to work to its fullest extent, would depend on their own Company Commander.  If he let them out for liberty on what promised to be a beautiful May Saturday in Colorado, before any complications such as figuring out the who done it part of the prank, then all would be well.  They stood at attention for what seemed to be hours, although it was only about fifteen minutes before they were given the order.

"LIBERTY, LIBERTY, LIBERTY! FALL OUT!" the CC called out after informing them of expected behavior and the time for Sunday evening muster. 

Finally in a tremendous 'HOU!' all the Yankee's bolted to safety before the CC could change his mind.  The four Yahoos' ran into their barracks and quickly changed cloths.  After acquiring rock climbing gear for the Morale Office, which the two that had been clueless in the party, wondered about where one of the other had already procured his.  They jumped in O'Neill's truck and spent twenty minutes driving to the Garden of the Gods where they would be climbing the infamous Camel's Eye.  They spent the entire weekend climbing, camping, driving two miles to the nearest convenience store and stocking up on camping food.  Sunday night they arrived for mustering, and tried to ignore the scowls they were receiving from the Vultures.  

'Mission Accomplished!' held the look O'Neill and Crichton shared and they silently congratulated each other on a job well done.  It took a lot of ingenuity to even think about stealing the Vultures two Morale Symbols.  Then to sneak into a hanger bay with the oversized plaques, glue the one-eyed jacks left on their bunks to the center, and find a way to hang the symbols up high where everyone would see.  For the whole of the final week, first the Vultures only digging themselves deeper into an already deep hole, then the rest of the Yankees, and soon everyone on base were calling the two misfits Jack.

The nickname just seemed to carry with them for the whole of their lives since that weekend., and they didn't think twice about it.  That name was a badge to wear, even when no one else knew the story…the A. F. A. class of 1970 would always remember.

~o0O0o~

So Jason Crichton and Jonathon O'Neill became the two Jacks. They were stationed together in Vietnam and when they were sent home two years later O'Neill introduced Crichton to his sister.  With in two months they became brothers in the in-law sort of way. Ten months later in 1973 Jonathon Robert Crichton was born, every bit as ornery as his father and his uncle.  Born of pure hell-raising.

The two parted ways then with Crichton joining NASA, and O'Neill joining the Special Forces.  They kept in touch over the years and made a vow that every three years each would drop what they were doing, if possible, and go fishing together.  Now off the coast of Florida the celebrated the 9th tri-annual Jacks fishing excursion.  This year a damper had been placed on the merriment, Crichton's son, following in his fathers footsteps, became an astronaut.  Just five months ago, while test piloting an experimental module, something went wrong and O'Neill's namesake and nephew disappeared.   

After all these years the two aging men shared a sorrow, both had lost their sons. The main difference with Crichton was that O'Neill knew little John was still alive.  O'Neill cursed at the need for secrecy, he wished more than anything right now to tell Jason that his son survived the test by some weird spatial thing-a-ma-jig causing a worm-hole. O'Neill wanted to tell his long-time friend about many things, that John was right in his theories, there was life through out the universe, the gray's were real and they called themselves the Asgard.  Most importantly the experiment worked. Sort of.

In fact a buddy of O'Neill's in the Asgard sent a message recently. The Asgard received a transmission from an area just outside of their borders, known as Peacekeeper space. The recording was from Little John.  Although fully grown, his uncle still referred to him as such, and it pained him to no end that no matter what, it would be a long time, if ever before his nephew came home.  Thor promised O'Neill that if anything else was heard he would be contacted immediately.

O'Neill exhaled a haunted sigh, 'to hell with protocol!' he thought. "Jack come here and sit down."  

Crichton complied with a worried look on his face. The tone in his friends voice was serious and deep.  

"Jack," He started to tell his comrade, "John's alive."

He was taken back by that comment, Crichton sat with a blank look on his face as he processed the information. He had to look around to find that O'Neill had gotten up and was tending the grill. "How, how do you know this?" he managed to stutter out.

"I don't and neither do you, if you catch my meaning." O'Neill stated calmly with out looking up from the grill.  "Just know that he's alive."  The rest of the day passed with neither mentioning what was said.  They both understood the implications, if it ever was found out that classified information was passed.  They understood, and they never said anything about it again.


	5. My World

Author: Moon Fox       

Rating: mild PG

Summery: Little John comes home

Spoilers: SG- general knowledge up through s6, FS- Kansas, Terra Firma.  General- Some things might be a bit confusing if you haven't read the prequel.

Archiving and Links: Sure! Just let me know where!

Feedback: PLEASE!  I even accept well thought out flames, cuz it means you at least read it.

Authors Note: 3 YEARS after OEJ, Hi everyone! For those of you who read my work Thanks! After numerous tries today I was unable to load this story to ff.net. I have a headache from pounding it against my desk constantly while trying to figure it out.  But hey!  Lookie here, I think I finally have it working!! 

And now without further adieu here's Welcome to my World. 

"Sir, NORAD picked up a ship appearing in orbit."

"What do you mean 'Appearing' Lieutenant?" The bald General asked with concern.

"We're picking up some weird gravimetric readings from the point in space they came out of." A female sergeant yelled from across the room.  Before the General could ask she hollered out the unasked answer, "Sir," she turned to him with a look of dread, "It's a self contained wormhole."

General George Hammond wiped the sweat from his brow and turned back to the Lieutenant, "What kind of ship is it?  Do we have any satillite feed on it?"

"Sir, I'm patching a feed through to station six."  Someone else in the now crowded room told him.

One mention of a ship and nearly everyone at the SGC scrambled into their emergency positions.  Hammond looked over each one of them and nodded his approval of their efficiency.  This was not the first time an alien vessel had come into orbit above the green and blue rock called Earth, and it most definitely would not be the last.  "Do we know what kind of ship it is yet?" He was starting to become a bit impatient.

"Uh… No, sir, its like nothing we've seen before…" The lieutenant watched his monitor intensely. "Sir, more data is coming in!"

"Well?" Hammond asked.

"Sir, it appears to be a biologic craft."

"And that means?" Hammond inquired.

The lieutenant drew a deep breath, "Sir, its alive."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hammond looked over his people sitting in the conference room.  Eyeing each of them up seriously to see their reactions.  "What's left now is for me to contact the President with an update, and for us to decide what to do."

"I think we should make contact with it, sir." Major Carter offered, her eyes sparkling with the idea of a living ship.  "This ship has been hiding in the moons shadow now for three days.  It doesn't seem to pose any threat."

"Carter, they could just be waiting for the rest of their force."  O'Neill quipped.

She gave him the typical look of disbelief, "I don't think so, sir…"

General Hammond cut her off, "Major, it's a possibility we have to consider before the rest of the world finds out."

"Couldn't we at least try to make contact?"  Jonas asked timidly.  "if it doesn't answer, then…"  The young alien trailed off.

Amidst protest, the General raised his hand in a call for silence. "I concur.  Now, lets try this peacefully first but, I want The Prometheus ready to be put into orbit." He looked pointedly at Colonel Renson.  "I don't want to take any chances.   Major Carter, contact the Tok'ra, see if they know anything.  Jonas and Teal'c  I need the two of you to contact the Asgard."  He continued on with specialized orders and finally dismissed the gathering. 

As everyone else rushed off, O'Neill limped along slowly knowing his knee was the only thing keeping him here.  Two weeks ago SG-1 had gone to a planet with lots of snow, as they came back through the gate, O'Neill slipped on the ramp in his wet boots, jarring his already arthritic joint.  With the temporary aid of a cane he was currently out of commission.  For some reason he was now glad for this.   If asked, he couldn't explain it, just a feeling in his gut that he needed to be here.

When they finally made contact, O'Neill's eyes widened when the woman's voice on the other end said the name 'Commander John Crichton'  he reached passed the man at the com to hit the mute button and turned to the General.  "With your permission, Sir?"  He asked motioning to the coms system.  Hammond nodded, wondering if it was really a good idea to let his brash XO talk to the aliens. 

"Ah, Moya, this is Earth, can you give us some proof about how you know Commander Crichton?"

The female voice let out an exasperated sigh, "Well, we have his Farscape ship on board."

The Colonel mouthed an 'Oh', and cast a silent request toward Hammond.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Colonel, I'm not sure I like where this is going."  Hammond looked at him concerned. 

O'Neill sighed, "General, I don't think, if they're telling the truth, they have any idea about the SGC.  I think we should keep it that way.  Let someone else make 'first contact'."

"And who do you think that should be?"

"Well," he started guiltily, "Actually Jack Crichton."

Hammond silently reviewed the situation.  He knew the personal stake his XO had in this, and was surprised that he didn't want to just rush off to this vessel personally.  "I'll see what the President says."

(A few hours later)

He sat at his desk the phone held to his ear with a shoulder, trying to type out some report or another.  Someone on the other end finally picked up the line.

"Hello?" A woman's voice questioned.

"Hey, Olivia, its Uncle Jack, is your pops there?"

"Well, hello to you too, Uncle, long time, no talk, eh?" She stated, the O'Neill sarcasm slipping through before she chuckled, "Yes, let me get him."

After a few moments an older male voice spoke into the phone, "Hi."'

"Jack?"

"Jack!"  The two laughed at the long since old joke. "How're you doing?"

"Oh, you know, same old same old." Something in his voice alerted Crichton.

"Really?"  He asked suspiciously.

"No, I just thought I'd give you a heads up."

"About?"

"Well, you remember our fishing trip last year?"

"Quit beating around the bush, O'Neill. Sheesh, your as bad as my mother-in-law." Crichton chuckled, "So, really, what's up?"

A few moments of silence passed before O'Neill spoke, "IASA might be calling you soon,  I already made some arrangements on your behalf.   You might get to see your son again." The sound of the phone dropping on the other end startled Jack.  

It was retrieved quickly,  Crichton sounded short of breath, "Are you serious?"

O'Neill nodded, then realized his friend couldn't see him, "Yeah, maybe.  Just do me a favor?"

"Anything!"

"We never had this conversation."   As he said it, he knew it sounded like some old 70's spy show. 

Crichton chuckled, "I understand.  Thanks for everything, friend."   Without a good bye, the two men hung up.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

John rubbed his temples brutally, trying to find a way to make them all understand that what was out there was not friendly.  He had begun to realize the short-sightedness in his race and it was giving him a head ache.  His nephew running around with the camera, trying to explain the technology, and dealing with his dad… it was becoming too much, and he just wanted a break.  Fate appeared unkind when a man wearing a uniform arrived at the door of the safe house. 

"Commander Crichton?" He asked and received a scowling glare, "I'm Major Paul Davis, can I speak with you a minute?"

John nodded mutely and allowed the man entrance. "So," he began sarcastically, thumbing his nose at the officer, "Here to pick my brain for more intergalactic secrets?  No, no wait, you want to ask that I quit pushing for wanting this project to be international?"

Davis stifled a chuckle and raised an eyebrow, "Oh, I can see the family relation. And actually I'm not here for either of those reasons, Commander."

"What family relation?" his curiosity peaked. 

"I work with your uncle, Colonel O'Neill.  He'd like to meet with you, but his schedule is a bit hectic, so…"

"So?  He couldn't take some leave to come see his nephew returned from the dead?"

"Actually, Commander, he'd like me to invite you to visit him.  Perhaps give you a chance to slip away from this whole media circus?" Davis continued quickly, "You can bring one of your companions along as well."

"Uh huh,  Frell, why not?" An insane grin spread across John's features. "Hey, Aeryn pack some things, we're getting out of here for a while."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

From Florida to Colorado they flew in a private jet with the Major.  Davis initially attempted some polite conversation in which John only stared blankly at him.  Once into the arid mountains a car took them to the Cheyenne Mountain Complex.  An elevator took them to a level where John and Aeryn were left to sit in a non-descript room and wait.   

John sat stoically bored flicking imaginary dust flecks off the table before him while Aeryn paced.  It didn't take long for an officer to come in, setting two files on the table she  extended her hand, "Hi, I'm Samantha Carter."

"I thought," John started impatiently, "that I was gonna see my uncle."

"You will," Carter assured him with a smile, "and then some, but first I need both of you to sign these." She handed a file to each of them.

John rolled his eyes and tossed his back on the table, "No go, nuh uh, sorry, try door number two next time." He clicked his tongue inside his cheek.

Carter was taken back by his venom momentarily. "It's a simple non-disclosure form, Commander."

The door opened behind John, and he watched Carter look up and shrug.  A sharp pain to the back of his skull had him leaping to his feet and spinning before he could register what happened.  He came face to face with the man he came here to see.  "Jack." He said simply.

O'Neill grinned goofily, "John!"  His face turned serious, "sign the damn form."

It took Crichton a moment to register that the man before him was real, and finally someone he knew who didn't treat him as some sort of hero.  He chuckled, "Good to see you, Uncle Jack!"

"You too, now sign the form, before I turn you over my knee and beat the living hell outta you for being a pain."  

Though it was a threat he knew his uncle would never follow through with, he signed the paper and nodded to Aeryn that she do the same.  

Carter kept a somewhat straight face through the exchange and gathered the papers together once they were finished.  This was the first time she had seen or known about her CO's family other than his ex and son.  It amazed her with the similarities, and although she would have wanted to stay and watch she knew it wouldn't be right.  So she turned to Aeryn, "Hey, what do you say we let these two catch up and I'll show you around?"

The Sebaccean's brow furrowed, she looked at John – who nodded – and then followed Carter out.  

Jack hobbled over to the chair opposite his nephew and sat down with a sigh

"What happened to your knee?"

"Oh, I…"'

Unauthorized incoming wormhole!  All Security personnel to designated position!  Unauthorized incoming wormhole!  Klaxons begin wailing and red warning lights spun around casting an eerie glow through the halls.

O'Neill jumped to his feet, as much as possible, and began running and limping down the halls to and elevator.  John jogged close behind him.  As they reached the elevator O'Neill waited for the questions to begin.  It was a relatively short wait.

"Incoming wormhole?!?!  Please tell me you aren't frelling with my friends only way back?" He leveled an accusing gaze on his uncle.

"What?  Do I look like the type that would do something like that?"  O'Neill questioned his nephew cynically, "Naw, we got our own to mess with." A typical O'Neill smirk played across his lips.

The finally reached the lower levels of  the base and the older led them to the observation room.  The iris was closed, the wormhole casting light on the wall behind it and soldiers stood below with weapons pointed toward the phenomenon.  Carter and Aeryn came up beside the men.  "What the frell is that?" the Sebaccean asked.

Carter looked to her CO for permission, before he could nod the technician sitting in front of them facing the gate yelled out, "Receiving Tok'ra idc!"

"Open Iris," O'Neill told him and then turned to his nephew, "How 'bout a crash course in Allies and snakes this side of the galaxy?"


End file.
